The Naiad
by lillelouis
Summary: Well... Let's call it Edmund's first brush with lust, shall we. No slash!


**Disclaimer:** Alas I asked, but no one answered.

**Author's Note:** At first I wrote a load of very pretentious drabble which didn't do anything except illustrate to myself how terribly arrogant I am. So I deleted it. Here it is, the story only a few authors dare take on themselves because the majority of you know it's completely insane to try. But nevertheless, I really wanted to write about Edmund being awkward when confronted with the possibility of sex.

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><p>The Naiad<p>

Edmund was a grown man. An adult. And yet not. He still felt like a boy in many ways. Being only twenty two he was expected to be rash in making decisions, brave in battle, impatient in council and yet a king. A king and all that came with it. He was all that and more. He considered himself a smart man. Someone wise enough to council the High King. He had fought for so long for the trust that now bound him and his brother together. It had colored every aspect of his life. He had become a man. Strong. Grown. Worn. So why did he still sometimes feel like a child?

That day was a bright one as many others in Narnia. He had accompanied Lucy to the Beavers' simply to get away from their stifling, older siblings. On the trip home he decided to stop by a creek and wash up. His men agreed to rest for the remainder of the day and gladly took the opportunity to speak with the locals. Several in his group were males. Young, unwed males. So when rumor spread that King Edmund and his private detail was in the area, creatures flocked. Dryads, Animals and beings of all sizes and shapes.

Edmund found himself seeking solitude. He went to sit by the river. It was a small one, but very pretty. It flowed at an even pace that allowed the water to look like liquid crystal. He smiled and splashed some of the cool water just to feel it. To see how it caught the light. Suddenly out of the water rose a splendid creature.

And what an alluring thing she was. With limbs as long and slender as his, though thick and strong. With hair as black as his own and eyes the size of saucers. Brown, almost black. He jumped slightly, but settled with a smile when she smirked. "Hello there," she trilled in her little voice. It was light and sparkling, much like her river.

"Hello, madam. Excuse me, I didn't know this spot was taken." His easy smile was one he had watched his brother perfect before he stole it. Peter had an easy way of speaking with ladies. The same easy way Lucy had with men. Susan was shy. Edmund as well though he did his very best to combat it. Even to go so far as to use arrogance. Kings didn't have to luxury of being timid and shy.

"Oh, the spot is free." She was waist high with her hands skimming the glistening surface. Her gown mushroomed out around her hips. Pale thighs, connected to sturdy legs that were solidly planted in the river's bottom below. Such a treasure, Edmund thought. "It's the _river_ that's mine."

"You're not a Nymph?" He had briefly considered her to be a river-goddess or a Siren, but had never seen one so human in appearance if that was the case. He kneeled and allowed his fingers to linger just below the surface. The cold was transforming to warmth as they cooled.

When she smiled and moved closer he saw that her face didn't bear the likeness to his as he first thought. Her nose was pointy. Her eyes were smaller and her lips thinner. She wasn't like the ladies that courted Peter. Not aglow with childlike innocence and rosy cheeks. Not done up in all ridiculous manners to impress. She was slightly hawkish even.

"A Naiad." She crawled from the river to sit beside him. Her dark blue gowns clung to the curves that held Edmund's eyes captive.

He realized his insolence and looked away with a laugh. No doubt the lady would now think he had laughed at _her_. And she did, for her response was quick and stinging like the claw of a crab. "Should my king not worry a little more of his _own_ appearance, and a little less of mine?"

Her narrowed eyes made her almost ugly. Her smile had left and remaining was only bitter suspicion. He blushed and quite forgot his place of authority. "I'm sorry, my Lady. Forgive me." He rose, about to leave, but she stopped him with a great laugh.

He looked at her in surprise. Hers was a mood more changeable than the sea. "Is suddenly something funny?" he accused.

"Your form." she bawled. Her laughter made tears spring to her eyes and anger flush beneath Edmund's skin. "Such awkwardness!"

He stared hard at her and was prepared for a disgraceful escape back to his men. The day was getting on and they would soon be leaving regardless. It wasn't until he strapped on his sword that she sobered. "Why are you running?"

He turned and found himself rather flushed in the head. "If my presence here causes such upheaval should I _not_ then retreat?" He raised an arched brow.

She did as well and he noticed for the first time that it was shaped rather like a crescent moon. That her pale skin was at odds with her black hair and brown eyes. "We look rather alike, do we not?" she asked out of thin air.

The king stared, uncomprehending.

She laughed again in that mocking way of hers. "Such a silly king."

He was quite aghast and confused as to her behavior. "What entitles you to such frivolity?" he instead accused.

Her laughter dimmed and was replaced by sorrow. "How old are you, King?" She rose from the riverbed and stood a little taller than he.

He found himself quite drawn to her strange appearance and her unusual way of speaking. As if she was only half listening to him and half to the river. He wondered if it spoke to her. "Twenty two years of age."

"A man." she praised, and yet not. For in her eyes there lingered a sliver of mockery that had the king sneering one moment and retreating the next. "Or perhaps not fully?" She smiled and with the stroke of a dragonfly's wing she softened. She became a woman. Not the creature she was. Sirens, Nymphs and Naiads were born with two faces. The art of romancing was their greatest trick. Some used it to lure faithful husbands from their wives. Others… Others, Edmund suspected, did it simply to feel.

He had often wondered how it felt. To allow oneself to fall into another. To forget time and place. Narnians were open and aware of such urges, but as kings and queens the four children had been taught the art of abstinence. Their future heirs would be rulers of the kingdom. It wouldn't do to indulge as others their ages did. Edmund knew this, but still there was an attraction he had never before felt.

The girls of court were pretty, little things. But before him stood a _woman_. Her curves and strong arms suggested as much. He liked strength. He didn't want dainty things that could only smile and nod. This was intriguing. So with his eyes on the strange maiden he ventured to her side. Water was still dripping from her dress. Making her look cold and wet. She smiled when he reached her side and took his arm.

He allowed her to sit them both on the bank. "What is your name?" he asked when he realized neither had spoken for quite a long moment.

"Naia." she said. "And do not call me Naiad. I'm not like _them_." Her eyes again narrowed and the loveliness vanished from her face. Something begrudging took over.

"Are you not a Naiad?"

"I am the oldest." she declared. Edmund knew very little of how the Naiads and Dryads aged. He wouldn't shudder to think they were immortal or next to it. And by her countenance alone she seemed old. Much older than other Naiads he had met. Most were flirtatious when they spotted their handsome kings. Most smiled and giggled until they were out of sight. Many tried to lure them in for quick swims. He and Peter had often indulged when no pressing matters awaited them.

But despite having two faces, most Naiads seemed young compared to this one.

"How old is your river?" He looked up and down its length.

Her eyes narrowed to his. Like a predator, searching for instability to lash out at. When she found nothing but curiosity she softened again. She became almost a young girl. "I do not know." She looked at the creek sadly. "It has been ages since I've even uttered her name." Her voice broke as if the thought plagued her.

"Did you name it yourself?"

"I was cast from my home," she continued as if Edmund hadn't spoken. "Greater rivers from the west overflowed banks and took over my rivers." She looked again at the little creek and almost seemed to vanish into her own mind. "I once belonged to hundreds of rivers." At that moment her voice was old. As old as Narnia itself, if one could believe it.

"Is this the only one left?" he tried again to catch her attention, and was somewhat successful.

She looked at him in surprise before she laughed. "My dear king!" She let out her bell of laughter and smacked her thigh merrily. Her skin was drying under the warm sun. "There are so many rivers to choose from. River gods can come with their bastard daughters and claim as many as they wish. They can take all the great rivers. They don't even know their names!" She burst.

"Their names?" Edmund asked confused. He knew the name of every river in his land. Every single one, from the River Rush to the tiny brook that sometimes in spring ran down beside Cair Paravel.

"You can't know them because you can't hear them." She spoke with such conviction that the king was easily swept away.

"Tell me their names." he whispered.

She looked at him with a smile that could not possibly belong to any young creature. "She is Yesod." She gestured to the little river. "She is only a small part of a much larger system. She is part of the soul." Her voice belonged to a preacher. To a prophet and the most wisest of Stars. Not to this strange Naiad with whom he was wasting the afternoon.

"The soul of what?"

"Of your fair country, my _fair_ King." She smiled at him in a way that made his skin tingle. "Without Yesod and her sisters your country would die." She looked elated at the very notion which greatly unnerved Edmund. Her power was very visible in every tick of her muscles. The slightly greedy expression of her eyes.

"How come I've never met you before?" he wondered. She scared him to some extent.

She looked back at the river and smiled. "Because I dislike kings." she trilled in a child's voice. "They never really care about rivers until one stops flowing or they need to cross one." Her foot dipped into the water and made a strange ripple in the midst of the moving mass. Edmund frowned.

"I care. My brother cares."

"Oh?" She looked around in wonder. "Is your brother _here_?"

For a second he felt convinced she was jesting, but became blaringly aware that she was serious. "Am I not enough, my Lady?"

"Trying to steal me, young King?" Her voice turned playful and deadly. As he had often heard Sirens speak until they pulled men underwater and danced with them for hours and hours. "Why should I not get to choose which king I confide in?"

He turned to the river when no answer was forthcoming. He felt very certain that envy bubbled inside him just then. As a complete surprise to him she reached out and cupped his cheek.

"Would the victory not be a thousand times sweeter if you knew you had beaten the best?" Suddenly her voice lost the touch of youth and darkened to something much older. Something almost malicious. A shiver raced through him and she smiled, having felt it keenly through her touch. Her widening smile was the last warning he had before he was suddenly engulfed by warm lips. She kissed him. Lightly at first, then a little deeper. The new sensation of another's tongue in his mouth.

And what a strange sensation it was indeed. A first for that kind of kiss. She retracted her lips when she became bored. Her eyes had glassed over and become almost grey. She hopped back into the river without a word and began swaying in the currents with her hands skimming the surface. "Why can I not meet the High King?" she pouted when she next looked at him.

His shock became outrage. Was this a game to her? Did she not know that she was infuriating a king? "Our doors are open." he replied. The anger burned through his eyes until dark beams caught her in the river.

"Perhaps I was unclear?" she smiled and swayed slowly back to the riverbank. "I asked for a King, not a boy."

"Perhaps _I_ was unclear. I am a _King_, not a boy." His anger didn't intimidate her. If anything she seemed intrigued. That warped curiosity warned him a bit of her true nature. She was a predator.

She crawled back onto the bank and settled on folded legs in front of him. "Such a jealous one."

"It is not jealousy, but irritation." Edmund answered in the whiplash tone he was used to taking with obstinate diplomats. Not usually one he used in front of his subjects. Instead of drawing back she seemed to glow under the harsh words.

"Is your brother as temperamental as you?" She quirked a quick smile. "Is he as possessive?" She drew nearer and though he knew he should he didn't want to pull back.

"No." Edmund answered honestly. Her lips were now only an inch from his, and getting closer. Once again she leaned in and stole a kiss.

"But surely he feels strongly like all great kings?" she asked when she pulled away again.

He was beyond sensing anything but her skin against his, and so couldn't find it in himself to get upset that she kept asking about Peter. "His emotions seem to infect the people around him when he feels them. When he is happy so are others."

"And when he is not?" She stole another kiss. Just a quick one.

"Then Narnia weeps." he whispered. It was a strange longing that pulled at his heart whenever she pulled away. He wished for all the world that she would just linger.

She pulled back, but surged forward like a snake and placed her hand on his thigh. Her weight pressing against him. "And what of you? What does Narnia do when _you_ weep?"

"I don't know," he whispered when she breathed a sweet sigh into his mouth. Their eyes were half closed and Edmund had yet to feel exploited though that was surely the Lady's intent.

"Surely She weeps with you." Naia moaned through another kiss. "How could She not with eyes such as yours?"

Edmund allowed the question to fall into oblivion along with the sun, the grassy bank, the river and everything else. Her hands on his skin felt slightly unnerving. He kept flinching, aching to pull back, but simultaneously wanting more. She seemed to enjoy his internal conflict when she smiled through another kiss. Her cold and wet hands sought up to his chest and fingers found their way inside his shirt.

When the cold and dripping digits touched bare skin he pulled back with a quick inhale. "Why do this?" he asked her in honesty. His voice slightly hoarse.

She chuckled like one far older than she looked. "Because I was bored, your Majesty."

But somehow it didn't matter. When she drew closer he was more than willing to give himself fully over to her. Their kiss deepened beyond anything he imagined any of his siblings had ever experienced. Even when she began pulling him to the edge of the river he only felt more longing. He had the acute sense of understanding how the victims of Sirens felt when they allowed themselves to be seduced to drown. He would die happy for just one more kiss. And if one more meant following her into the river, then so be it.

He was submersed to his waist, letting her light grip on his tunic lead him further into the stream, when a shout awoke them.

"King Edmund!"

He flinched awake and turned to face the intruders. Celer and several of his men were staring at the two of them in shock. It lingered on the captain's face for two seconds before it turned to anger. "Get away from him!"

Naia let go and surged into the river. She lowered her body until only her shoulders, neck and face were above water. Staring at Celer, who was making his way into the water to fetch his king. "I apologize," she pouted. "Were my intentions not clear?" She turned to Edmund.

Her lovely, little pout had him ill-convinced of his captain's concern. "Yes," he sighed desperately and pushed closer to her, but a firm grip on his arms held him back.

"No, your Majesty! She's bewitched you. Baldiar, get out here!" Celer held tight and roughly began pulling his king back towards the bank when the Centaur-lady joined them. Edmund allowed himself to be pulled only because the look on Naia's face was that of sorrow as opposed to anger. Had she fought he surely would have as well.

He was pulled to shore where a Tigress assisted in hauling him up. Baldiar and Celer by her side. And through it all Edmund kept staring into Naia's eyes. "Till we meet again, King Edmund." she giggled as his men pulled him away protectively. He sent her a smile before his vision was obscured.

"Till next time." he muttered deliriously, completely unaware that his men were manhandling him away from the river.

"Get Phillip!" Celer ordered. The king's Horse was brought to him, looking shocked and even a little scared. Edmund sensed nothing of their fear, only his euphoria over having kissed such a lovely creature. He failed to notice, because of said euphoria, that he was pushed into the saddle and bade 'hold on', before he and Phillip were ushered away.

It wasn't until they were once again within sight of the Cair that his strange mood evaporated. Like dew under the sun so did it fade. A pleasant way to wake up no doubt, but it was still less than what he had before. When he awoke he also became frighteningly aware of his behavior and settled into silence with a deep frown.

He had never been so lost in another. It was usually Peter who was bewitched by dabblers in magic. Edmund was usually too levelheaded. Or so Susan said. He rode in silence and was assisted off Phillip by a hovering Celer. The captain made to follow him to his room, as did the Horse, but both were waved off. Edmund felt watched and slightly embarrassed by what he had nearly allowed to happen.

No doubt Celer would run tell Oreius, and if any of the palace Dogs or Dryads overheard it would the talk of the Cair come morning. Better to get it over with and tell Peter himself.

Edmund found said older brother in their shared room for a change. Fixing menial tasks and signing transnational agreements. Edmund disturbed him by walking into the room, though he moved without a sound and without speaking a word.

"What's wrong?" Peter looked up, instantly concerned. They were attuned to each other's moods, annoyingly so.

Edmund for his part was still frowning when he took a seat on his bed. Martil entered with a goblet of wine without having been asked. His expression was one of curious concern. Apparently 'come morning' was a rude underestimate of the speed with which gossip traveled within the castle walls. "I was bewitched." he mumbled as the door quietly shut.

Peter closed the books and looked deeper at his brother. "Are you alright?" He rose from his seat and reclaimed one a bit closer to his brother. On the same bed to be precise.

"I feel sullied." Edmund said with a grimace.

Peter grimaced with him. "That sounds about right."

"Used."

"Ahh yes." Peter leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

"Why would she do that?" He looked at his brother. For a moment he looked twelve years old again. Or younger, since a twelve year old Edmund had been quite wise and a little jaded already.

Peter's eyes widened when he took in his brother's innocent expression. "I don't know."

"She said she was bored." Edmund said with traces of indignation.

Peter scoffed. "Aren't they all? But why do they have to go and make us fall in love?"

"Truer words, Brother."

Both brothers hummed sagely in agreement.

"How long before the girls know?" Edmund asked after a moment of silence.

Both were staring at the ceiling, leaning back on their arms. "Well Susan already knows, no doubt. She'll have sent a letter to Lucy the second she found out so come morning she will know as well."

Edmund huffed and slouched. "Splendid. Lucy's with the Beavers so come morning it won't just be Cair Paravel, but the entire _country_ that knows I was made to look like a fool."

"It happens to the best of us," Peter slapped his shoulder which did nothing to erase the disgusted frown on Edmund's face.

"It happens to _you_, you mean," He shifted a bit away from his brother's pat. "Never happened to me before today." he muttered.

Peter let out a great laugh. "Yes, well at least yours don't want to marry you."

"Bless the Lion." Edmund fired off.

His brother glanced at him behind his back and smiled. "Bless the Lion, indeed."

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><p><strong>AN:<strong> Thank you for reading. Let me know what you thought.


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